


Two plus two plus two equals three

by kisahawklin



Category: Leverage
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Everyone taking care of everyone, Hardison worrying a lot, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:14:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22058368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisahawklin/pseuds/kisahawklin
Summary: Hardison is sore. And worried. And Parker and Eliot aren't helping matters.
Relationships: Alec Hardison/Parker/Eliot Spencer
Comments: 16
Kudos: 160
Collections: Fandom Trumps Hate 2019





	Two plus two plus two equals three

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vaire_the_weaver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaire_the_weaver/gifts).



> This started off with a lovely prompt from my FTH bidder, vaire_the_weaver: _How about a Parker/Hardison/Eliot fic where two of them try to join in the other's hobby? Like Parker and Eliot join Hardison playing a video game or Eliot and Hardison join Parker playing with rope climbing or Parker and Hardiosn join Eliot horse riding?_
> 
> Which is a great prompt, of course, and the story DID start there... it just... didn't end there? This is basically a story of the three of them working it out a little bit. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy, my dear bidder! Thank you for your donation!

~~~

Nothing much changed when Hardison & Parker and Eliot because Hardison & Parker & Eliot. He joined them in bed, which most of the time meant they had a very heavy, very warm blanket that covered them both. And sometimes the bed they slept in was at Eliot's house, especially when he wanted help with the gardening.

They now had a third person whose stuff they had to fit into date nights and vacations, which was a pain for scheduling and sometimes literally a pain in the ass because he liked intensive martial arts retreats. Hardison always planned an extra week for recovery when Eliot got to choose their vacations.

Somewhere in there, a couple years after Nate and Sophie left and a few before they recruited Jorge, Amy, and Ying, they started planning date nights for each other. Not even on purpose, Hardison thinks, it just became natural to see something and think, "Oh, Eliot would love that," and pick up some tickets, or "Parker would probably love a chance to steal that," and set up a "security test" with the museum. 

Eliot and Parker had both surprised him with movie and game adventures, and Hardison didn't even have to convince them to dress up as a threesome for Halloween anymore, they would conspire to find the nerdiest thing they could and surprise him on the day.

"Why is it always Muay Thai with you?" Hardison asks, sitting down hard on the couch and rubbing his thighs. They've been aching since day two of the camp, and the flight home from Cambodia didn't help anything.

"It was Kun Khmer," Eliot says, without much bite. Parker looks up sharply at that, and Hardison looks up sharply at her, and then over at Eliot. He looks tired. It's not even worth fighting about; Hardison had known it was Kun Khmer and was trying to get a rise out of Eliot. 

"Let's just sleep it off," Hardison says by way of an apology, and they all murmur agreement sleepily and fall into bed together.

~~~

Problem is, the next day, Eliot's still off. Parker heals pretty much instantaneously, so she's in her harness for funsies the next day, trying new tricks and testing new set-ups. Eliot's a little sore – he was helping teach, which means he had to let people beat him up all day – but not so much that he can't get around and at least pretend he feels normal. A few Advil usually takes care of Eliot's bruises and soreness. Hardison really does need extra sleep and a truckload of various painkillers, but he tries to stay conscious for several hours in the morning and afternoon.

He's the last one up, and he'd probably still be unconscious if he hadn't smelled sausage cooking and limped his way downstairs to see what Eliot was making. 

When he makes it to the kitchen, he's surprised to see Parker minding the pans. It's not unheard of, but it is dangerous, since her idea of experimentation is to grab blindly from the cabinets and add things at random. 

It's worked out a few times – her addition of harissa to Eliot's Western omelets was amazing and the curry powder and dried fruit mix she added to Eliot's corn chowder was weird but tasty. More often it was a huge flop, like adding sour cream to the French toast batter and almond butter to the chili. 

Today looks like a middle of the road disaster. The scrambled eggs have salsa on them, which has potential, Hardison has to admit, and the sausages are covered in something white and crumbly. Cheese maybe? Feta or goat? He'll find out soon enough.

"Where's Eliot?" he asks. Eliot usually mitigates some of the poorer decisions Parker makes.

Parker shrugs. "Said he had to stop by the house for some things."

Hardison frowns. Eliot does often go back to his house just to check on things and occasionally to get some alone time. After they go on vacation together, sometimes he even takes a day or two to center his chi or whatever. 

It's just that they're careful about how he goes off. They drive him. They go in and check the place out, make sure he has enough food and it's been dusted and whatever other excuse they have to put themselves into his space for a little bit before he needs to be alone. 

He doesn't just leave. It upsets Parker. If he's honest, it upsets him too, but only after he started to understand why it bothered Parker. It's gotten better for Parker over the last couple years. She trusts Eliot now. She knows he's going to come back. It's gotten worse for Hardison. He trusts Eliot is going to come back too, he just worries about what drives him away. 

"He drove himself?" he asks, trying to keep it nonchalant. He goes to the cupboard and grabs three plates, setting them out on the butcher block.

"Yep," Parker says, emptying the sausage pan onto two of the plates. That doesn't bode well. She turns back to the omelet and cuts it in half, sliding a piece onto each of the plates with sausage on them. 

"He'll be back today?" he asks, watching Parker put the third plate back into the cupboard. 

Parker shrugs and hands him a fork. He starts with the omelet – he was right, the salsa's a good addition. Parker eats three sausage links in a row, with that smile of wonder on her face, so he gives it a go too. It's goat cheese, and it's not terrible, just a little weird. Parker has always liked cheese, though, so it's not surprising it's up her alley. He scrapes most of the cheese off of the sausages and eats them in silence. 

"He's okay," Parker says after a little while. "Just feeling a little creaky, I think."

That's their code word for when Eliot seems older than his years. He's already over a decade older than them, so if things are okay, they can tease him about being an old man. Sometimes he gets sensitive about it, though, and they lay off and change tactics, bringing him into their more immature spaces until he shakes it off. Sometimes just a couple of hours of Splatoon will do it. Other times it's days of jumping off buildings while they "test Parker's equipment." Parker doesn't need her equipment tested, and besides, Hardison does that himself, indoors, with protective gear and mats. But it always seems to remind Eliot he isn't really old. 

Hardison nods. If he wasn't so sore, he might bust into Eliot's place and yell at him for leaving without at least saying goodbye, much less giving them their usual reassurances. "Should we plan something? Escape room?" They could do laser tag, maybe. It's old-fashioned, but there's still one place in town that's hanging in. Laser tag is more make believe than paintball – paintball is just too much like real guns for Eliot to really enjoy it. 

"Nah," Parker says. "You need more rest. Let's just give him a couple of days while you heal up."

And _that_ worries Hardison too. Because while Parker is obviously self-sufficient and can keep herself occupied, she shouldn't have to. And if he's sleeping sixteen hours a day, he can hardly be there for her – not that he's great company even for the chunks of time he's awake when he's sore like this. 

"Come on," Parker says, grabbing Hardison's arm and pulling him over to the couch. "It's about time we get to Babylon 5, isn't it?"

He wonders how he ever got so lucky. He plops down on the couch and Parker brings him pillows and the remote and covers him with a blanket and puts the DVD in; he lets himself be spoiled, only waiting for her to be done so he can lift the blanket and let her snuggle in next to him.

The credits start and he closes his eyes and smiles when he hears the music, hoping he at least gets Parker's first weird question before he falls asleep.

~~~

When he wakes up, the menu for disc two of the first season is up, and Parker is nowhere to be seen. He looks around. She will watch a certain amount of this stuff without him, but she gets bored and wanders off after a while.

Sitting on the coffee table are three Advil and a glass of water. He takes them, says a thank you to the universe for sending Parker to him, and only then notices that someone is cooking again. Whatever it is smells amazing, so he rolls over and hoists himself up enough to see over the couch. Something in him unclenches at Eliot stirring a pot with one hand and poking at something in a pan with the other. He backtracks to a moment ago, adding his thanks for Eliot to the universe as well.

He just watches Eliot, content to see him doing one of the things he loves to do. Parker's nowhere in sight, but that doesn't mean much. She could be hanging on the ceiling, for all he can tell. He refuses to start worrying about her when he just got over worrying about Eliot.

Eliot's weird spidey-sense goes off and he turns around, looking directly at Hardison. "Welcome back to the land of the living," he says. Not his best tease; beyond being a fairly neutral greeting, the way he says it is way too fond. 

Hardison's still feeling cozy, so he goes along with it for the moment. "Smells good," he says, sniffing the air again. "Curry, beef… what else?"

"Persimmons," Eliot answers, and Hardison just shakes his head. He doesn't think he's had a persimmon in his life before.

"Parker here?"

Eliot shrugs. "Went out." 

His heart climbs up his throat again. Maybe they were wrong about Eliot feeling old; that'd be nice for a change. But if Parker's feeling restless, that's worse. He made a tracker for her early on, but it wasn't long before he stopped putting them in her shoes without her permission and just gave it to her to use when she wanted to. 

It had helped a couple times, but the trust he gained by allowing her to choose when to use it helped more. That was when they started to click – and Eliot too, come to think of it. So if she hadn't wanted to take it along, she could be gone for a couple of hours up to a couple of weeks. Her current longest streak of staying away was sixteen days. Hardison had kept an eye on the international news, and guessed at some places she might have been, but he didn't try to contact her. She'd left her cell on the dresser, a clear indication she wanted some alone time.

"Okay," Hardison says, taking a deep breath and trying not to worry. "Okay."

"It's fine," Eliot says, turning back to the stove. "She's probably just a little restless. You know how she hates flying, and the extra hour sitting on the tarmac before takeoff didn't help."

Hardison nods dumbly. But she'd been right here – she tucked him in and everything. If she was feeling that way, she would've ditched them right at the airport. 

Except. 

Except Eliot was feeling the need for some alone time. And if Parker left too, then there was no one to be with Hardison. His anger comes up swiftly, and he gives in to it because he's not a baby, damn it. "You don't have to hang around. I can hobble around and feed myself for a few days."

Eliot turns around to look at him briefly, not even a little annoyed. "I know you can. But why would we let you do that when we're right here?"

Hardison narrows his eyes. "You went back to your house."

"Yeah," Eliot says, sarcasm back in full force. "I needed some cilantro and chives, and it's been two weeks. I have to at least check on the place."

"But –"

"I'm not feeling my age, you idiot," Eliot says. "I just got done teaching an intensive – I feel better than I have in months."

Hardison thinks carefully about that for a moment. It's true, Eliot's normally in a good mood for weeks after one of his crazy intense 'vacations'. But Parker going out without any notice, that's weird too.

"Parker's out."

"Buying orange soda, dumbass. You drank the last of it before we left. You said you didn't want it to go stale, like that is even possible." Eliot's looking at him with that grin – the one that's absolutely 100% smug and yet completely endearing. Hardison can't help smiling back in the face of it.

"You know, I know about the whole 'creaky' thing," Eliot says. "And I can't say I appreciate it."

Hardison feels vaguely embarrassed, but only because Eliot's here, saying this stuff out loud. Eliot never does that. And what's between him and Parker is supposed to stay between him and Parker. Well, some of it, anyway. 

"Sorry," Hardison mumbles. "We're just trying to help."

"I know it," Eliot says. "It's the same when we worry about Parker being restless."

Oh no. Has Eliot talked about that with Parker? Hardison wants to crawl in a hole. These are things that are never supposed to be shared! 

"Yeah," Parker says from the entryway, where she's lugging two bags full of orange soda in the door. "Not everything is about you guys."

Hardison is now completely mortified. All he wants is to make sure that Parker and Eliot are happy. He doesn't want either of them to leave because they're missing something.

"And that right there," Eliot says, pointing a spoon at Hardison, "is what Parker and I call the 'Hardison's feeling anxious' face."

Parker drops the soda within reach of the couch and goes over to climb up on the butcher block to watch Eliot cooking. He shoos her off and she reaches around him to get three plates and set them out. 

Hardison stays completely still for a moment, letting his brain process the information. Of course Parker and Eliot worry about him. Of course they have some code word and a few tricks to get him out of one of his moods. He just wouldn't have guessed it was his anxiety.

"I'm sorry," he says, suddenly more in love with these two morons than he's ever been before. "But also, you're both jerkfaces, you know that? I'm injured, here." He slumps back down the couch and wraps the blanket around himself. "Man needs to get some rest after being near beaten to death."

That gets some laughter out of the other two, and a moment later, he's being pushed up to sitting and handed a plate of delicious smelling beef-persimmon-curry stuff over rice. "Eat," Eliot says, pouring a glass of orange soda and setting it on the coffee table. Hardison would protest that – he drinks straight out of the bottle thank you very much – but when he reaches for it, his biceps scream and he thinks better of it.

Parker slides down on his left and Eliot on his right, and the three of them sit comfortably, shoveling in their food and watching Babylon 5. 

And later, when he's lying on the couch with his head in Parker's lap and his feet in Eliot's, he thanks his lucky stars one more time that somehow they all found each other.

~~~


End file.
